One of Us
by CohenTheKitty
Summary: After the deaths of all his friends, Mark Cohen must learn to survive alone in the world, and to be someone to someone else too.
1. Chapter 1

One of Us

Warnings: Swearing, brief drug use/mention, sexual slurs/situations

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, never happened not true.

Notes: Post deaths of the HIV Positive characters, play backs on 'one of us to survive' and use of lyrics from ABBA's One of Us.

Chapter One

Not Fade Away

Summertime brought those thunderstorms where the air was pleasantly warm and the rain was bitter cold. It was in these storms that he'd learned to thrive the past two or three months. He sat on Roger's chair on the roof, watching the rain hit the other buildings' shingles with a cold, hate filled stare. His lovely blue eyes were seemingly empty, bleak and void of any feeling. He lowered his eyes to the cement for a moment and sighed softly, rubbing one hand gingerly over the back of the chair.

It had been four and a half years since Mimi's "resurrection" there in the loft. She'd held on strong for a long time, listened to every song that came out of Roger for two years. Shortly before her death a year ago she'd given birth to their son, and had grown weak since. Roger had been distraught to watch her slip slowly away, stayed in the bed with her, holding her to him. He caught the cold that claimed her life but survived it.

Mark had done his best to help Roger care for the rapidly growing HIV negative baby. Roger hadn't made it easier constantly wallowing in his grief and taking long walks to smoke and look at all the places he'd been with his love. Collins came back into town at Christmas as usual, and helped Mark more, and Roger got sick again on one walk. He ended up with pneumonia and seemed to pull through that well enough, but went downhill again in February and died a week after Valentine's Day.

Mark found himself in charge of baby Nathan, now a year and some odd months old. Collins had been devastated at seeing so much death around himself that he practically fled to Santa Fe, and Mark wasn't surprised to hear he'd opened a restaurant down there by mid-spring. He'd called it "Angel's."

The rain came with June, and while Nathan napped in the loft, he often found himself up here. It was August now, Nate would be two in three months. Mark had a project due to the production company that had produced _Today 4 U: Proof Positive_ by the end of the month, and he was stressing over some cuts he still had to make and never seemed to have time for.

He heard the door to the roof creak open and slam shut and frowned in confusion. He turned in the chair to look at who it was and seemingly instantly the scowl wiped off of his face. He smiled weakly and stood, moved and hugged his friend gently. "Hey."

She smiled at him, hugged him tightly and released him to look up into his face. Her eyes were still sweet and gentle, and they peered into his with a sort of care that intensified the pain in his heart. "How are you?"

He sighed at that and walked to the edge of the roof, braced his hands on the waist height wall. "Oh just fuckin' peachy."

She frowned and walked over to him, slid her hand to gently grip his shoulder. "I know things are tough right now, Mark, but they're gonna get better, they always do."

"You know," he turned to look at her, the anger, hurt and resentment in his heart bubbling out onto his face. "It seems like ever since Angel died, things have only gotten worse."

She frowned up at him, taken aback by his sudden outburst of anger. Her eyes filled with hurt, the tears of four years of anger and pain and love. He sighed and moved to her, touched her arm. "Maureen, I'm sorry. I didn't meant to be.. . so . . I didn't mean to be such a prick."

She shook her head and wiped a couple loose tears away. "No, I understand. It's just. . I wish I could make you feel better but you have your work, and you're taking care of that poor baby. . ." She sighed and shook her head.

He bit his lip and scuffed a shoe against the roof, watched it move against the cement. "Look I know you and Joanne wanted to take him but I just. . Rog left him to me, Maureen. He's all I have of Roger and I can't just. . .leave him."

"You'd still see him at our house. . ."

"That's not the same."

She frowned at that, nodded a little, her face lowering to look at her feet. "I guess I can understand that, Pookie."

He frowned deeply at that old nickname, shook his head and slid past her to go back down the stairs to the loft. She followed him after a moment but he'd run in to Nate, who was standing in his crib, screaming at the top of his lungs, probably woken by Maureen looking for Mark in the loft. He picked the dark haired infant up and bopped him around, trying to soothe him and easily accomplished the task.

Maureen watched from the doorway, tears sliding down her face, a smile curving her lips. "I never doubted that you'd make an awesome father, Pookie."

He bit back a sob of pain, she was torturing him and it was making him want to just fall apart. He looked at Nate's tear stained, red face, one that looked so much like Roger except for the color of his hair. He kissed the baby's head and carried him past Maureen to the fridge to grab a bottle, sat and placed Nate in his lap, handed him the bottle and watched him take it and begin to drink it. Maureen sat by Mark.

"Why are you mad at me?"

"Because you keep calling me that fucking name."

"Don't sat that in front of him, Mark!" She cried, covering Nate's ears with her hands, looking at him with shock.

Mark sighed and pushed her hands gently away. "I don't often, Maureen, I just can't stand that name. There are too many memories and too many emotions that that name brings back."

She watched him and sighed sadly, nodded and stood, kissed his nose. "Jo and I are having a dinner party type thing tonight, we want you to come. There'll be other kids and nannies to watch them, so you can bring Natey along."

Mark sighed and ran his hand through Nate's thin hair. "What time is it?"

"Mmm. I think 9 but 9:15 to be safe!"

He nodded and shrugged slightly. "If I'm not there by 8:45, count me out."

"Oh. Kay then, you'll come." She said with a smile, stood and nodded curtly, giggled and walked out, sliding the heavy metal door behind herself. Mark watched her leave in a flourish and sighed, laid back, Nate still sitting on his waist.

"Here's a little piece of advice for you bub. Do not ever fall for a woman."

He seemed to giggle with the bottle nipple between his chubby lips and Mark couldn't help but smile, sat up and kissed his forehead. "Well come on fairy godmother, you gotta help get Cinderella ready for the ball." He scooped Nathan up and made airplane noises as he carried him into his room to get them both ready.

An hour later he strolled up Joanne's apartment complex stairs. He was only fairly dressed up, nice shirt, slacks. His usual scarf was slung around his neck and he had dressed Nate in a T-Shirt that read 'Act Up. Fight AIDS.' and some jeans and was carrying the youngster in his arms. He stopped at Joanne's door and knocked, fixing a lock of Nate's gelled hair, spiked just like his.

Joanne answered to his surprise in a dress, much like the one he'd seen in his fantasy several years earlier. He kissed her cheek and said hello, took Nate to be with the other kids and watched him run off to play, sighed and went to the sitting room, where several ladies and their male and female partners sat with cocktails and cigarettes.

One heterosexual couple brought tears to his eyes, the lady was darker skinned with long dark hair and was sitting in her husband or boyfriend or whoever's lap, laughing. He thought of Mimi and Roger, and noticing his glassy eyed state, Maureen pulled him to help her prepare stuff in the kitchen.

He was astounded when he entered to see a still from his film of Angel's face, smiling softly at the camera, with the words 'In Loving Memory of Angel Dumott Schunard 1990' written elegantly on it. Next to it was a still of Mimi and Roger, Mimi in Roger's lap, laughing with him, her arms draped around his neck. Below it 'In Loving Memory of Roger and Mimi Davis, 1993, 1992'. He was particularly drawn by this one, Mimi and Roger had never been married. He supposed it was a sweet enough homage to them, they'd always discussed marriage.

He sort of stared at them when Maureen nudged him to grab a plate of hors d'oeuvres. He did but his eyes remained on the portraits, Maureen finally looked up and smiled a bit. "You like? They've got your copyright and shit on them, we thought it would be nice."

"No, no, by all means. I'm not upset I. . ." He shook his head, smiled softly. "They're wonderful, Mau."

She smiled and nodded for him to go ahead as she grabbed a bottle of wine. He brought the tray out and set it on a table, clapped some crumbs from his hands and turned to go back when the young woman he'd stared at called. "Hey who are you anyway? Just gonna hide from us?"

Mark sighed at that, she reminded him all too much of Mimi more now than ever. He turned back and smiled weakly, shook his head. "Sorry, just um. Well I . . I . .Mark. Mark Cohen." He smiled nervously after his stuttering. "My name is Mark Cohen."

The woman blinked as she swallowed the rest of her wine and set the glass aside. "No shit! The director?" She hurried over and shook his hand, obviously half drunk but still able to think quite clearly. "I'm Gita Marquez!"

His hand froze mid shaking motion and he stared hard into her face, saw Mimi everywhere in it and felt his throat choke. "M-marquez?"

She nodded, smile fading a little bit. "Hey, you ok?"

Joanne hurried over from where she'd been watching. "I think it's time you all found out what this party is for." She held onto Mark's shoulders. "Mark was a dear friend of Mimi and Roger Davis, their living mate and now he's Nathan Davis caretaker." Gita stared at him with wide, tear filled eyes. "He was also," she addressed several people gathered a bit off. "A very dear friend of Angel Dumott Schunard."

Mark swallowed hard at everyone's faces, particularly the family and friends of Roger and Mimi. He could point them out of the bunch, but didn't understand why Joanne had called them both 'Davis'. He sighed and nodded, sat. "Memorial Dinner."

Joanne nodded stiffly after a short pause. "Well in a way, erm, well yes, it is."

Everyone in the room introduced themselves. Gita, Mimi's sister, her husband Chuck, Roger's brother Tony, sister Lisa and mother Patty. Angel's brother George and sister Trina. When it came around to Mark the words 'the one of us to survive' began to ring in his head loud enough to make him grab it in pain, someone asked if he was ok and his soft, meek reply had been. "I'm alive, but that doesn't make me ok."

_Just like a child, stubborn and misconceiving. _

_That's how I started to show_

_One of us had to go_

_Now I've changed and I want you to know. . ._

He looked up as Gita started talking about Mimi's performances at the Cat Scratch, listened and recalled how Roger had described it, sighed. Such different points of view, he wondered if she would have liked her sister's choice in life partner. She too referred to Mimi as a 'Davis' and it was becoming too confusing and such. "Would someone please care to tell me why you're using that last name?"

"Which?"

"Daivs. Mimi's name was Marquez."

Gita looked to Joanne with wide eyes and Joanne bit her lip. "You mean he didn't tell you after she was gone?"

"Tell me what?" Mark asked softly, voice lowering to just above a whisper, quavering with emotion.

"Well, Roger married Mimi on her deathbed, Mark. The day she died."

The colors in the room swam and he felt dizzy, and then sick. He lurched but did not vomit, instead hit the floor in a cold faint, hearing several shouts of his name and also Mimi and Roger's voices.

_There's only us. . ._

**Mark. . .Mark . . **

He opened his eyes and looked up at Joanne's familiar face, full of concern. "Are you ok?"

"All too familiar of a wakeup call." He said quietly with a wry smile, sat up and rubbed his head, the apartment was empty. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Home, you've been out for an hour."

"Crud." He stood and shook the lingering dizziness away. "Where's Nate?"

"Sleeping, leave him here tonight."

He shook his head and went to get him from the guest bedroom, came out into the hall with him only to have Joanne in his face. "Look Mark we've tried to be nice about this, Nathan would grow up a lot better with. . ."

"Save it Joanne." She was stunned by him, stepped back, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "I don't want anything more to do with you both if you're going to keep trying to guilt me into giving him up, I won't."

That was the last thing he said, he shoved past her, did not ever look at Maureen and left, took Nathan home, to what was home now even though it was missing some acoustic guitar, marijuana smoke and smiling faces. It was cold, damp and dark. But it held so many memories.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Two Men and A Baby

* * *

New York was arguably the second largest capital of the land of dreams, second only to Los Angeles but it did shit for Mark Cohen. Proof Positive had only briefly been popular and so he packed up Nate and whatever he could for himself, gave a homeless family the loft and flew down to New Mexico. He arrived late and so he checked into a hotel with Nate and went to bed. In the morning he bathed and dressed the baby, who was nearing two. Then he quickly cleaned up and changed.

After asking a number of people for directions he found "Angel's" and went in. At first he was greeted only by some lovely waitresses, whom he soon realized were transvestite's. He asked about Collins, shifted his grip on Nathan and one very cheery "girl" ran into the back and then came back out. "He come, you sit?"

Mark nodded and took the offered seat at the bar, sat Nate in his lip and fixed his hair a bit. He sighed, tapped his hand on the little boy's leg impatiently and nearly fell out of his seat when Collins voice boomed into the room. "Feliz Navidad!"

"Hey, Collins!" Mark grinned from ear to ear as he stood and hugged his old friend, poor Nate sandwiched between the two of him. "I've missed you."

"This can't be my man Nathan! Boy, you got too big already! How old is he now?"

"Two."

"Goddamn. Want something to eat? Drink?"

"No, I need to talk to you." He said, sitting again. Collins took the stool next to his and nodded a little pouring two glasses of Stoli anyway.

"I had figured that much."

"Collins, I, well . . .Nate and I, we're moving down here indefinitely. I need some help finding work, a place, that kind of stuff." He took a small drink of the foul liquor and made a face. "And well, I don't know anyone else. ."

"You don't have to say anything else Pumpkinhead, happy to help."

* * *

A week later Mark found himself working the camera of a New Mexican newscrew, his eyes darting to the nearest watch on the nearest gaffer's wrist. Almost time to go home, to go pick up Nathan. Christmas was nearing, and he planned to spend the week preparing for it so Nate would have a better one than he'd had ever. He was making fairly good money on this work, and Collins made a good living at the restaurant, so they planned to go to Toys R Us one day and buy the lot of it. But only when he secured this last check.

Finally the work was done, he loaded the van up and they drove it back. He went into the payroll office and took up his $3,500 check and drove to the day care center Nate was at. He then drove home with the little boy and took him up to the apartment they shared with Collins. Tom was watching a football game on TV, a beer in hand, an enormous smile on his face. When he heard them come in he looked up and smiled, rushed to Mark and waved a wad of money in his face.

"Damn."

"I know." He laughed and danced around, then looked expectantly at him. "Did you get paid for the last segment?"

"Yep, bumped me up $300."

"Awesome. Let's go shopping."

There was a knock at the door and Mark looked questioningly at him, then worriedly at Nathan. "Were you expecting someone Collins?"

"No, you?"

"No."

Collins made an odd face, one that made Mark giggle a little. He walked to the door calmly and leant against it, smiling softly. "Who is it?"

"Lennie Briscoe and Ed Green, NYPD. We need to speak to Tom Collins and Mark Cohen."

Collins opened the door hurriedly and practically leapt onto one of the men, the darker of the two, also the taller and well, more Collins-looking. Mark was completely confused but greeted the men and led them all in as Collins talked away. "Ed, you wouldn't believe how long it's been, how long _has_ it been?"

"Six years." Green said. "Collins, Mark, we're not here just to catch up, I'm afraid." He sighed softly and both Mark and Collins sunk into seats, any good mood they may have been in shattered by those grim words. "I'm . . .especially sad to tell you Mark, but both of you. Maureen Johnson was found beaten to death three days ago."

Mark's eyes widened and almost immediately, Collins began to sob. Mark stood shakily and leant against the wall, trying to remain as calm as he could to help the police do their jobs. "I don't know anything, we don't. We haven't spoken to her."

"Any idea who would want to hurt her?" Green asked while trying desperately to comfort Collins, despite how increasingly difficult it was becoming. "Or anything at all you can tell us that can help us?"

"No, no idea." He said softly before going into his room, laying down. Little hands soon jumped up and down to try and get some attention. He bent and pulled Nathan onto the bed and the little boy curled up next to him, nuzzling.

"Daddy, daddy sleeeep."

"Yeah kiddo, go to sleep." He said gently, petting his hair, tears slipping soundlessly down his face. "We just need to go to sleep and try to get a hold of ourselves, come here Collins." He'd sensed his friend for a while and so the black man came and laid with them, holding them close, sobbing quietly. They just tried to get the pain of losing Maureen so suddenly and distantly gone, and would wake to little reason for joy.

* * *

Christmas was not as big and joyful as they had planned it to be but they tried to make it as happy as they could, for Nathan. The day after they flew out to New York and spent a week with Joanne, hoping for a break in the investigation of Maureen's death, but one never really came. Mark took Nathan to visit his mother and father's graves, a painful act for him to do, but one he felt was necessary, nonetheless.

He was walking back to the apartment building with Nate, both bundled up for the New York City chill when he found a homeless man on the street, a sign next to him. 'I have no home, I have AIDS. Make my Christmas brighter'. There was a hat by him, Mark pulled a twenty from his pocket and set it into the hat and the man smiled softly. "What can I do for you my boy?"

"Nothing," He answered hurriedly. "I just wish that I could do more for you."

The man smiled more and shook his head. "A kind deed is enough to make a room feel warmer, and certainly this corner. You have a wish deep inside of you. A wish to reunite your family away from home."

Mark watched him and nodded a little, clutching Nathan to him, hoping he wasn't getting too cold. "Well yeah, anyone affected by AIDS would. But there's no way to reunite my family, four of the people who made it up are dead."

"Death is a stage in life," the man said. "And like any stage, it can be affected by choices we make, you made a wise choice today. You will wake up happy tomorrow." He said softly. "Have a nice day, Mark Cohen."

Mark nodded and took a step away before pausing and turning to look at the man. "How did you. . .?" It was useless, the man was asleep. Oh well. He went back to Joanne's place and made Nathan some hot cocoa, told Collins about the man and the brief conversation, was met with laughter from both him and Maureen.

"Just some crazy old hobo." Collins said with a sigh. "Still, be nice to have them all back and healthy, no worries. Nate's the one who really got cheated, he'll never know what a great family we all were."

Mark nodded a little, taking a drink of coffee as he nibbled a turkey sandwich. "Yeah, but we all got cheated, the world got cheated by AIDS. And there's nothing we can do." He laughed softly. "Hell, who knows, in the new millenium, I'll bet that there'll be a cure for AIDS and people won't have to live through this anymore."

"I'll drink to that." Collins said, raising his coffee to mark's, they clinked the cups together and drank from them. "Well, it's late. Better get this little dude to bed." he said, picking up Nathan and carrying him into the next room. Mark finished his coffee and set their cups in the sink, then went to bed.

He awoke the next morning, to the sound of Angel and Collins giggling and kissing in the bed above him, which he and Collins had been sharing. He was now on the floor and he yawned and stretched. "Morning Collins, morning Angel." He froze and sat up, looked onto the bed with wide, sleep crusty eyes. "_Angel!!!?"_

* * *

Reviews please? 


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